Boiled Lobster

Lizzy Schroff

Sauntering down the hall
Wrapped in nothing but my lime-green terry cloth towel
Heading towards the one thing that will get me out of my slumber
and out from underneath the warm covers
Sliding back the curtain and stepping into the blue tiled box,
I turn the faucet handle
Quickly side-stepping a shot of icy water
Missed.
I tap my foot as I wait for a suitable temperature
It takes its time.

....


I feel the warm stream running down my back
Suds in my hair, in my eyes
Blinking and looking down at my skin
I'm crimson red.
The hue works its way from my toes to my neck
Too hot.
Cooking me.

Reluctantly I step out of the steamy haven
But not without a fight.
I'm quick to throw the lime-green towel around me
(Which only makes me look redder)
And wipe the cooling droplets of water from my skin
 
I scurry back down the hall again
A boiled lobster.
Ready to be served up for the new day.